Chapter 5018 — Renting a House
The Blossom Guardian · Page 2 of 2
"What is it?" Wei Zhao turned and glanced at the man—an elderly fellow with a plain way of dressing, a small carrying pole of greens beside him. He looked like an old vegetable seller from the countryside.
Besides the old man there was a sullen-looking young man with a crew cut, who was gripping the old man's clothes and refusing to let go. The two of them appeared to be in the middle of a quarrel.
"Young man, you come and judge for this old fellow," the old man said angrily. "This lottery ticket—I plainly picked it up at my own stall. This man insists it was his that he lost, but he never bought a single thing from me. How could that be, I ask you?"
"Bullshit! I dropped it by accident when I was taking out my money. Then I turn around and it's in his hands—how is that 'picking up'? That's plain robbery!" the crew-cut man snarled.
"What lottery ticket?" Wei Zhao blinked, then saw that the old man really was holding a welfare lottery ticket between his fingers, and asked offhandedly, "Win anything?"
"Here, look, this is the one. I don't even know whether it's a winner. What's the world coming to these days—even snatching a lottery ticket out of an old man's hands! Is there no justice left?" The old man waved the ticket before Wei Zhao's eyes, then at once tucked it away like a treasure, afraid the crew-cut man beside him might snatch it.
"Oh, oh, oh, the old man's quite the actor, isn't he? If it hadn't won, would you be hiding it away like a treasure?" The crew-cut man gave a few cold laughs and said to Wei Zhao, "Brother, don't let this old man fool you. The old bastard's a sly one. This ticket's won ten third prizes—three thousand yuan each, ten of them makes thirty thousand!"
"So what if it's thirty thousand? What's that to you? The ticket isn't yours. I picked it up, so of course it's mine!" the old man said, sticking out his neck.
"Ho, old man, don't you know what's good for you. A country bumpkin like you dares come into town and throw your weight around, eh? I'm telling you, this ticket is mine—you snatched it out of my hand. That's a crime, you understand?" the crew-cut man said, seizing the old man by the collar.
"Young man, you've heard how it is. Please, say a fair word for this old fellow—tell me, shouldn't this ticket be mine?" the old man said, ignoring the crew-cut man and insisting on putting the question to Wei Zhao.
"That's right. The two of us can't settle this between ourselves. Brother, you be the judge—who does this ticket belong to?" the crew-cut man chimed in.
Wei Zhao glanced at the two of them and said mildly, "I didn't see with my own eyes what happened—I've only heard a few words from each of you. How am I to judge? But since each side claims to be in the right, why not just call the police and let them settle it for you?"
"Call the police? I only picked up a lottery ticket at my own stall—is it worth making such a fuss as that?" The old man was startled.
"Exactly. No need to trouble the police over a little thing like this. I say we settle it privately, that's better," the crew-cut man said, his expression changing too.
"Since you've decided to settle it privately, the two of you can talk it over yourselves." Wei Zhao adopted the attitude of an onlooker. After all, there was no making sense of a matter like this; the two of them would have to work it out between them.
"This..." The crew-cut man hesitated, then said to the old man in a tone of one graciously willing to swallow a loss, "This brother's right. There's no end to us squabbling like this. Tell you what—split it down the middle, half each!" (To be continued.)